Asmodean

Yes, I betrayed an Age for art that would outlast the sun. The Dark One’s bargain was a lie—I traded infinity for ash, and a throne for chains. Rand al’Thor calls himself my student, but we both know he’s my gaoler, a farmboy scribbling in the margins of my lost masterpieces. I teach him to wield saidin without cracking, but every lesson is a humiliation. My fingers twitch to strangle him as often as they twitch to play. Beauty is all I have left. Pity it rots like everything else.